Je T'Aidera
by Lil Blue J
Summary: I don’t belong here. Not in this crazy place where my- where James and Lily Potter are alive. Sirius is living and free. Remus is under suspicion. Pettigrew is fighting for the order. And my mate is Draco Malfoy. It has to be a dream, a nightmare. MxM
1. Chapter 1

**Je T'Aidera**

**Summary: **"I don't belong here. Not in this crazy place where my… where James and Lily Potter are alive. Sirius is living and free. Remus is under suspicion. Pettigrew is fighting for the order. And my betrothed is Malfoy Jr. It has to be a dream, a nightmare. This is not my world."

**Rating:** M

**General Warnings:** Violence, crude language, and homosexuality. If any one of these aforementioned things offends you, please do not continue to venture any further. Also I am not thoroughly familiar with the details in the Harry Potter books, so please ignore any OC-ness cause by my ignorance. Although a little guidance here and there, especially about the noble families of the Harry Potter universe would be greatly appreciated. Enjoy your read!

**Disclaimer: **Urm, let's see. I tried thinking of something creative so that you wouldn't get bored reading this, unfortunately… At first I attempted to use non-daily life vocabulary in this, but my IQ level would not permit it. Then I tried a rhyme, but my teacher told me to quit poetry. I'll just have to admit that I'm not a very witty person, so I'll make this as painless as possible, I do not own Harry Potter, there, short and sweet.

**Author's Note:** Constructive criticism is highly welcomed. Thank you for reading.

* * *

Chapter 1

The whip whistled through the air, and cracked onto his back like scorching thunder, adding to his grotesque collection of wounds. Again, and again, and again. Relentless, maniacal laughter vibrate within his skull, trapping him within his own mind as the pain continued. Merciless. Only his own stubborn will kept him alive and lip tight. The whip cracked one last time with twice the intensity as before. He arched his back in an attempt to shy away from the worst of the blow. His jaw unhinged against his will, but he bit back the scream.

As this form of muggle torment ended, he slumped forward in an awkward position. The chains binding his wrist rattled at their limit and would not permit him to reach the stone floor. Drenched in his own sweat and blood, he shakily took in ragged deep breaths through his mouth. Each swallow of air was a battle for life, and his damage lungs protested greatly. His shredded clothes rubbed against his fresh wounds, adding greatly to his discomfort.

"Are you ready to talk yet, young Potter?"

The young man immediately clamped his mouth shut, the muscles in his jaws tightened painfully, as if the action would ensure the safety of his secrets.

"Your loyalty is admirable, young Potter. But working for the wrong side will cause you your life." The prisoner wanted to snort at the irony of the words but couldn't summon enough strength to ridicule the Dark Lord before him. "Cooperate with me, and I can promise you glory."

This time, the teen did snort. Did Voldemort really think he was putting his life on the line for glory? The absurdity of that suggestion prompts a reply. He sucked in a rattling breath and croaked out,

"Fancy words," a dry cough interrupted his response, "for a bigot like you." Another breath, "I rather die here, than cower under your feet, fearing your displeasure." The words were delivered like a politician but the venom and disgust laced into the low voice would be enough to imply war at an international conference table.

Voldemort's lips curled into a sneer. He gave a flick of his wand and an uninterested, "Crucio."

The youth could not keep the first shout of pain and cried out in agony. He drowned the rest of his shouts in blood, biting his tongue so hard that it could no longer be determined who was taking away his life faster. Thousands of iron hot needles embedded themselves into each and every pore of his body. Still the youth refused to scream.

The bleak colors of the dungeon swirled before him, until he could no longer keep his eyes open. Suddenly there was an explosion, stars erupted in his vision, and he found himself crawling, limping, and running, running for his life. There was a feeling of frustration for his body refused to comply. His legs felt like lead and his knees wobble like jelly. He forced himself to walk another step and then he was tumbling, falling face first into darkness. He hit something soft, silk and velvet. He thought he might've been on a cloud, and maybe he was going where muggles call heaven. But no, his wounds still burn and his limbs still ache. It hurt, it hurt so much he wanted to scream and cry, but he couldn't. He was too weak, too tired.

His mouth opened, no, someone pried it open, he tried to snap it shut but couldn't. Warm liquid rushed down his parched throat, he coughed violently in response, but the liquid was already inside his body. Too late. What did he swallow? Veritaserum? He was afraid to know. His eyes wouldn't open. To him it felt like perpetuity, but it might've only been a few minutes before his body went numb. He couldn't feel his wounds, couldn't feel his pain, something was wrong, but he felt warmth. Something held him down. He wanted to scream, tell them to let go, and curse them to go to hell, but his tongue throbbed and he vaguely recalled he nearly bit his own tongue off.

There was something wet on his lips, were they trying to force more strange liquids down his throat? But he couldn't fight them off. He never felt so helpless in his life, asides from the times he watched his friends and loved ones get taken away, and there was nothing he could do. Was he crying now? It was hard to tell. Something forced its way into his mouth and swiveled around his tongue. Something warm, moist, and strong. A tongue? He thought in alarm. The same tongue plunged deeper into his mouth, exploring every crevice, and violating his senses. For a second, he felt like he couldn't breath, as his mouth was completely dominated by that tongue. After an eternity, the tongue left, and he found himself shamefully missing the warmth.

Someone turned him over onto his stomach and stripped off his torn shirt. Cool air hit his burning skin before warmth enveloped him once more. He wasn't sure if he welcomed the warmth anymore, it held him down and made him felt vulnerable and exposed. Something wet was rolling over each and every gash on his back. There was a muffled sound, did he just groan? He was horrified at the mere thought. But whatever it was, wasn't disturbed. It continued running down his back, over every wound, going lower, and lower. At some point, the teen realized his pants were being tugged down but luckily not completely off, and the warm, wet object was traveling lower and lower till it reached his tailbone and then stopped abruptly.

He was turned over again, and he felt his hand being squeezed, in reassurance? The same treatment continued with his chest, which wasn't nearly as damaged as his back, for Voldemort seemed to have an affinity with whipping him across the back. It was probably due to the fact that he tended to curl into himself in a fetal position, and Voldemort was just attacking whatever was exposed. Either way, it wasn't a situation that he was too keen on analyzing. The sooner forgotten, the better, but the youth knew that no matter how hard he tried the shadows of the incident would haunt him like it did to the elders involved in the war around him.

Ironically, after that very thought, the teen did temporarily forget about the recent torment as a tongue dipped skillfully into his navel. Something vibrated in the back of his throat. The teen didn't bother to speculate at the sound he probably emitted as he wondered weakly if he really was injured there. He forced his eyes to open, and groaned as his vision swam. The tongue that was exploring the area two inches below his navel stopped, and his vision focused briefly on something silver, and enthralling, before he slipped out of consciousness completely.

XxXxX

Some unknown distance away, Harry Potter awoke from what he deemed the single, most twisted nightmare, and shot up in bed, drenched in cold sweat.

For reasons unknown to him, Harry found that he could see things perfectly clearly when his site regained focus. Harry was not wearing his glasses, but his eyesight was the least of his problems. For one thing, just where in the world was he? The room smelled sterile. Upon further inspection, Harry could see he was in a moderately sized room with several identical beds from the one he was on. Vials of colorful potion lined up on a shelf. Harry guessed he must be in a hospital room. He was the only occupant. From the generously sized window, Harry could tell that it was nighttime. The full moon bathed the room in blue and white glows.

Harry tentatively pushed the window open and a light breeze ruffled the white curtains and brushed across his face. Harry got the vague sense that he hadn't had fresh air for a long while. This made Harry abruptly stopped enjoying the night air. For it wasn't possible. Harry could recall that he was in battle before, underground no less, but the battle had not even commence for over ten hours yet, so it couldn't be that long since Harry had his last breath of fresh air, why did it feel like that he hadn't enjoy the natural air for so long that his lungs would be singing right now?

Suddenly, something else clicked in his brain. He was fighting with his friends, against Voldemort, and his Death Eaters in an underground chamber that once served as burial grounds… for the ancient Mayans, at least that's what Harry thought Hermione had said. But that's not the main point. Harry recalled that the cavern was strangely lit in yellow light and ancient symbols were etched onto the cave walls and ground. The cave was surprisingly sturdy against all the fired hexes and curses. It was composed of many compartments, and Harry remembered his friends all getting split up into different cavities as they each fought their own battles. Unsurprisingly, Harry faced off against Voldemort in one of the inner most chambers. The battle that ensued was chaotic.

Harry was too disorientated to recollect the details. He might've crashed into a wall and blacked out or something, due to the shock of one of Voldemort's curse. Harry couldn't be sure, but he knew what he needed, was to get back to the battle, his friends were still fighting in there. Before Harry could act, the door burst open, and Harry swung his head around to face the new comers pouring into the room.

There were three people all dressed in black and white. They split up, upon entering and bustled around the room. One of them pushed a cart of supplies. A woman with a clipboard approached Harry, and waved her wand to perform a diagnostic. A man came up to him and informed him,

"You are in the emergency treatment ward right now. Do you remember your name?"

Harry opened his mouth to respond; his throat was course and dry. He swallowed and tried again.

"H- Harry Potter." The man nodded to indicate that it was a good sign that he remembered. The woman pushing the cart earlier came forward with a tray full of things. The man took a glass of water from the tray and gave it to Harry, ordering him to drink slowly through the straw. Harry complied; he knew it wouldn't do his body any good to force substance into his system quickly after being famished for a long time. Next the man pushed a vial of potion into his hands. Harry drained it in a matter of seconds, already used to this type of routine from his many visits to a medi-wizard. Although visiting the doctor more times than you can count is not quite a feat to brag about, still, it helped Harry develop the patience to get through the cycle of healing.

"When we found you, you were severely injured, and your magic was waning. You have several cracked ribs and broken bones among numerous cuts and bruises, luckily, you suffered no organ damage. You've been asleep for nearly three weeks since we found you. You'll have to say in bed for five more days approximate, to allow your body and magic to fully recuperate," the medi-wizard informed him. Harry nodded at the assessment of his condition, although he was bemused that he was more injured than he remembered. His fight with Voldemort shouldn't have lasted long enough for all those injuries to be dealt, but than again, Harry wouldn't put it pass Voldemort to kick him around a few times while he was down. The odd part was, none of his wounds were agitating him at the moment, but Harry chalked it up to numbing potions as the medi-wizard gave him another vial.

"Where's Ron and Hermione?" Just as the medi-wizard was about to respond, the door was banged open for the second time that night. Harry turned to look at the newcomer as the door swung a little on its hinges from the force. Almond shaped green eyes matched his own, and Harry's breath hitched in his throat.

* * *

Lily Potter was wearing a hole into the carpet. It was either that or sprout gray hairs from worry instead of old age. Neither occupant in the room had the heart to tell her to stop. By occupant, this included James Potter, and Sirius Black. It was Bill Weasley who found Harry in a forest in Romania. Luckily, Harry's injuries weren't life threatening, and he was later flooed back to England after his condition was stabilized. Lily gnawed at her lower lip.

"It's all my fault," she muttered. "If only I was more careful with him…"

At this point, James decided to intervene before his wife could go down a negative spiral on herself again for the nth time since Harry disappeared. James would rather have the privilege of worrying _his_ head bald, but he knew how much Lily is berating herself over this incident, and he had to be strong for his wife.

"Calm down, Lily. No one wanted this to happen. You know how headstrong Harry is."

"Must've got it from his old man," Sirius quipped in to lighten the mood, but to no avail. He received a glare from both Potters for his effort. Sirius held up his hands, palms forward as if to say, 'okay, okay, I'm backing off now.'

James continued, "It doesn't matter how hard you keep him under security. Harry'll definitely find a way around it, just like every other time."

"He's got the marauder blood in him," James quirked a smile at this comment, and Sirius grinned back. "Harry's resilient and strong, he'll bounce right back in no time." Although Sirius said this for himself as much as he did for the James and Lily. Inside, Sirius was worried sick about his godson, but he had to be strong for Lily and James, because it was their _blood_ son who was lying in one of the treatment rooms at this moment.

James tried to smile at his best mate, but it was hard to when his son has been unconscious for nearly three weeks by now. It was a known fact that Voldemort had him captive, so, how Harry managed to escape intact, or rather, at all, was truly a blessing. The medi-wizards speculate that the damage may be mainly mental. It is possible that Voldemort tried to milk Harry for information, seeing as how both his parents are important members of the Order.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on the amount of damage that Voldemort can deal from his displeasure, Harry is relatively oblivious to the workings of the Order. Harry and his friends all know about the Order's existence, having stumbled upon it in their fourth year of Hogwarts, however, they were denied membership to spare their innocence. But it seems, Harry's innocence can no longer be saved after such a close encounter with Voldemort. Lily dearly hoped that no permanent damage would affect her only child.

James approached his wife with open arms to offer her some sense of comfort. Lily smiled gratefully and started to lean into her husband's embrace when the door burst open, and a junior medi-witch shouted,

"Harry is awake!" before rushing off, probably to alert others.

"Harry is awake," Lily repeated in barely a whisper, and then she thrust a palm at the obstacle before her and tossed it to the side, making a straight line for the door. The said obstacle happened to be one James Potter. One, exhilarated yet fuming James Potter, who now carry a pink palm print on his chin as a testament to his wife's… not so gentle treatment.

"Oy, you okay there mate?" Sirius offered his hand, his voice filled with mirth.

"Peachy," James mock glared and accepted the hand. Then the duo rushed out the room, only to be caught in the doorway as they both tried to push through. "Move it, Padfoot, you're too big."

"_You_ move it, Prongs, you're getting fat."

"That's my_ son_ in there!"

"That's my _grandson_ you're talking about!"

"_Engorgio_." The doorframe widened and the two marauders fell through the threshold. The caster sighed tiredly, as if they've been through this one time too many. "Honestly, squabbling like children again."

The two grown-ups looked up from their position on the floor. They were at the perfect angle. If only the caster wore a skirt.

"Moony!" Sirius shouted as a way of greeting, as he leapt up form the floor, using James as a stepping-stone in the process (thus, further pounding James' face into the floor tiles) to pounce on Remus. Only to have Remus side step the animagus and whisper an incantation to shrink the doorway. Sirius went sailing into a door on the opposite side of the hallway.

Remus looked briefly between Sirius with his nose in the door, and James with his face in the floor, before shaking his head slightly and sighing once again,

"I'll go on ahead first," he announced and headed towards the treatment ward.

A few moments later as the two marauders finally peeled their faces away from the surface they were attached to, Peter came into view from around the corner. He was breathing slightly faster than normal.

"Prongs, Padfoot," he called to his two fellow marauders as he spotted them each in their own unique position, "Had a rough night?" he joked, not missing the chance to tease his two friends after all the times they made fun of him.

"You can say that again," Sirius grumbled, not taking the innuendo. James, however, caught onto the double meaning.

"Not in that way, Wormtail!" James flushed remembering incidents from his schooling years at Hogwarts. "Seriously, Rosalyn is a bad influence on you. What happened to the naïve, innocent Wormtail we all knew and loved?" James joked.

"You can have Remus fill in for me," Peter grinned good-naturally before his face turned serious. "Sorry guys, he left my sight the moment we heard the news about Harry."

James and Sirius quickly sobered down.

"Yea, he just passed us to the treatment ward," James replied.

"He, _what_?!" Peter was flabbergasted that his two friends would let a suspected spy bypass them to Harry. Even if that suspect was their long time friend, you can never be too careful in these times of war.

As far as the archives are concerned, Remus Lupin is the only known werewolf still involved in the war between Voldemort and all of England. Every other werewolf retreated into the mountains, much like the giants and centaurs, which didn't want any dealings with a 'wizard affair' as they dubbed the war. Thus, many doubted Remus' intentions in the war. Werewolves were also recorded in history as dark creatures, and in several crime scenes after Voldemort wreaked havoc, there have been traces of what could only be the doings of a werewolf. There have also been reports from a member of the Order that Remus Lupin was seen associating with Severus Snape in secluded places. Now_ there's_ a definite deatheater, no one can fathom why Dumbledore insists on keeping Severus as the potions master of Hogwarts. It was a terrible thing to perceive, your friend double-crossing you, but this war has changed numerous people, and many for the worst. Peter hoped that Harry wouldn't become another victim to the grotesque reality of warfare.

"It's alright. Lily went before us, we'll catch up now," James replied. Peter nodded in acceptance, and then the two sped down the hall. Sirius loitered for a second before following, his mind heavy with thoughts.

* * *

Harry watched with wide eyes at the surreal picture before him. Blazing red hair and almond shaped green eyes. He recognized this woman, from pictures, from dreams.

"Harry?" the woman spoke.

It was the voice right out of his nightmares, except she wasn't screaming right now. Her voice was soft, and tentative. He knew her face, he knew her voice, but he never knew her person, because this person was never alive at all.

"M- mum?" his tongue felt stiff, the words felt wrong.

"Harry!" her voice brightened considerably when she heard him. Harry tensed upon hearing that voice. This wasn't a dream, Harry knew. Yet it didn't feel real... no, it didn't feel _right_, because she was dead, murdered by the Dark Lord. So who was this woman that bear the likeliness of his mother in the pictures. Who could this person be? Lily took two steps forward and Harry jumped up on his feet. The vial he had, smashed to the floor, the potion it held now laid in a puddle.

"My wand," Harry muttered frantically. He had to defend himself from... _this. _His eyes flashed towards Lily urgently before he turned back to the medi-wizard by the bed, "Where's my wand?" he demanded.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Lily fretted.

"Harry, please calm down, you'll agitate your wounds," the man reprimanded. The two medi-witches stood to the side, wondering at the development of this new situation.

"Where's my wand!" Harry shouted.

"Is something wrong?" a concerned voice sounded. Harry's head snapped to the doorway to see his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"Professor," Harry's voice was a pitch higher than he would've liked it, but he didn't care. "What are you doing here?"

"What's the matter?" a new voice joined in. Harry's eyes swayed to the newcomer, only to see someone that made his blood boil.

"Pettigrew," Harry snarled, but his anger didn't last long, for his eyes widen in shock once again as his eyes stray to the man next to him. A man, that was the near mirror image of himself. "Dad?"

"What happened here?" Another voice joined the fray. That voice was heart wretchedly familiar. Harry saw the shaggy black hair first before the person finally pushed into the room, right next to the red haired woman. There were differences, but that face was unmistakably Sirius.

"No," Harry's voice cracked. "No! You're not supposed to be here. You're dead! I killed you!"

A collective gasp went around the room.

"Harry, what are you talking about?" Lily's voice wavered. She wanted to scream, yank her hair out, break something, or curse the world for its injustice, but primarily she wanted to cry. What did Voldemort do to her son? At the sound of Lily's voice, Harry turned brusquely towards her.

"You're supposed to be dead too! Voldemort killed you!" Harry's voice was hysterical. The medi-wizards gasped at his free use of the Dark Lord's name. "I see it," Harry was no longer looking at the people that he thought to be dead, knew to be dead. His eyes stared unfocused at the white sheets on the bed he currently stood on, "every night, I see you dying, I hear you screaming. You're dead. He killed you! You're not real!" Harry was getting desperate. He needed his wand. He needed to fight, against this sick illusion. Most of all, he needed to run.

A breeze passed over his burning skin. The window! Without thoroughly processing his actions, Harry jerked to stare at the partially opened window. Before anyone could react, Harry rammed his shoulder into the window, forcing it wide open as he fell through, and tumbled onto the lawn outside. Luckily, he was at ground level. Even a second floor, free fall would be overexerting it with his current health status.

"Harry!" shouting from the room followed him through the window.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry registered the slight ache in his shoulder, but as fear overtook him, adrenaline forced him on his feet and across the lawn in a matter of seconds. The ground was bitterly cold against his bare feet.

As his instincts kicked in, Harry quickly veered left as a spell missed him. The only though that crossed his mind was, _enemy_, and that was all it took for him to start running at break neck speed again. It didn't matter where he was going. He just had to get away from all the insanity in that room. Harry felt a spell coming.

"Protego!" Harry cast a shield charm without a wand. The drain was immediate in his weakened state. But the spell that was fired at him, rebounded, and Harry took the chance to keep going. Footsteps sounded not too far behind. His injuries, coupled with the spell he just cast were really taxing on Harry's physical strength.

"Stupefy."

The next spell aimed at him, hit him dead in between his shoulder blades. Harry slumped forward and a big, furry, black dog caught him just in time.

**

* * *

**

**A/N: **Like it, hate it. Drop a review and let me know what you think. I'm mostly open to suggestions. I haven't got a beta, and if I do I think I'll drive the poor person ballistic with my sporatic updates, so let me know if I have any mistakes and I'll do my best to correct them. I'll be responding to reviews privately, unless by popular demand I can put up replies along with each new update. So don't think that I won't read your reviews. In fact, I really appreciate the readers value opinions, it's fuel for writing and constructive criticism is again highly appreciated, because there's always room for improvement.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"What's wrong with my son?" Lily demanded, her voice tight, and on the verge of breaking. One can hear the iron will of a fighter, holding back tears in her voice. The medi-wizard, Jordan Vandom looked away, unable to meet her eyes. The muscles around his jaw tighten as he debated the best way to break the news to them.

The room they were currently in was under three layers of protection charms and a silencing spell. Prominent members of the Order of the Phoenix were all gathered to discuss the issue of one Harry Potter. This included Albus Dumbledore, James and Lily Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, Minerva McGonagall, Arthur and Molly Weasley, and Jordan Vandom. Curiously, Remus Lupin was conspicuously omitted from this meeting. Severus Snape was also notably absent, but then again he wasn't even an accepted member of the Order. Not many trusted his loyalties, only because Dumbledore believed in him, that everyone else tolerated him.

Although this wasn't an official Order meeting, the tense atmosphere could easily give their full-scale Order meetings, a run for its money.

"There is no easy way to phrase this," Jordan began, "so I shall be blunt about it." James tensed visibly as Jordan continued. "What I am about to say are just speculations, but I ask that you treat this information seriously." He waited for every member in the room to acknowledge his words. Everyone nodded carefully, already anticipating the news. Jordan nodded and began his assessment of Harry Potter.

"I suspect that Harry is suffering from PTD, Post- Trauma Disorder." He waited for that statement to sink in before plowing right on. "You have all viewed my memories of yesterday night," the medi-wizard made a vague gesture towards the pensive off to the side, "and seen the way that he has reacted. Harry's emotions are very unstable at the moment. Base on my previous interaction with patients that have similar symptoms, it is safe to say that Harry was put through an extensive amount of physical and mental torture. With time, patients have showed signs of healing and calming down, but paranoia is to be expected."

Here Jordan paused for a sip of water. A slight sign of relief passed throughout the room. Before the relief could settle in, Jordan quickly picked up where he left off,

"But that is not what I am most afraid of," his expression was hard, "I am afraid that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has tampered with Harry's mind, feeding him false images and mendacity."

Memories of Harry's reaction to the woman who gave him birth, surfaced to mind:

"_You're supposed to be dead too! Voldemort killed you!" Harry's voice was hysterical. "I see it, every night, I see you dying, I hear you screaming. You're dead. He killed you! You're not real!" Harry was getting desperate._

"He believes that You-Know-Who has done away with Mrs. Potter, and he thinks himself the murderer of his godfather, Mr. Black. As you can all see, Mrs. Potter and Mr. Black are both very much alive, that is what leads me to think that false memories have been implanted into Harry's mind."

"W- why? For what purpose?" Lily voiced the thought on everyone's mind. Jordan finally looked up to meet her eyes to give her the straight answer she expected.

"To use him as a weapon in this war."

A few sharp gasps can be heard.

"It is not unusual, and this was once a tactic used in muggle warfare. By capturing the enemy and through extensive torture and mental manipulation, a strong ally can be formed. The ingenious point of this tactic is to capture someone with close relations to your archenemy. By remodeling that person's personality and then re-placing them at the side of your enemy, you then have a weapon that isn't under suspicion and has direct access to getting the life of your enemy. The final product after the mind-altering process is someone who believes they have led a horrible, messed up life, and the belief to support the side that they were originally opposed to. But the process is inhuman, and those who have ever survived can be counted on one hand, it is no longer in practice anymore in the muggle world, and many humans have fooled themselves into believing that their ancestors have never came up with something so brutal and utterly gruesome."

Jordan paused for breath.

"It is in my belief that Harry was put through this kind of torture. It is obvious that Harry has been physically wounded. He bears a peculiar scar on his forehead, and I have deduced that it is a curse scar. I do not know how strong the curse is. That is not in my department of specialty, but through several spells, I have detected the residuals of the Cruciatus Cruse, amongst various others, his mentality is questionable at this stage. My guess is that Harry escaped before the complete process was finished, but that is only eighty percent wishful thinking on my part. Since he is unconscious right now, I cannot investigate his situation further. This subject was only briefly mentioned in a rare text, and I do not know the remedy. However, I do not suggest legilimency, for it might even warp the legilimen's mind. Also, he should be kept away from issues of the war because right now, he is a threat. To us, to himself, and to the entire wizardry society."

"What can we do for him?" this time it was Arthur that spoke up.

Jordan let out a weary sigh and responded, "Most mental patients require time to heal and that is what I suggest right now. Also do not overwhelm him, and slowly re-expose him to elements of his life. Too much pressure will put stress on him, and I predict the results will not be good."

A long, uncomfortable silence followed as the weight of the situation slowly sunk in, and each member debated the best way they should treat this situation, or rather, how they should react to Harry Potter when they come in contact with him.

"Vandom," Peter spoke up. Everyone with the exception of Dumbledore and the Potters gave a small jump at his voice. "In your memory, Harry asked for Ron and Hermione."

"Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger?" Minerva repeated.

Jordan looked surprised for a second, for he completely forgot that part of his memories; too intent he was on figuring out Harry's ailment. Finally, he nodded in confirmation.

"He seems to remember his friends, perhaps we should start by reuniting them?" Peter suggested. As he trailed off, Peter looked at the two Weasleys as if asking for permission.

Arthur and Molly did not look at each other in response to Peter's question. Their only communication was a gentle squeeze of each other's hands. Surprisingly, Molly, the protective mother hen, was the one, who answered,

"I believe that is a decision up to Ron and Hermione to make," she said in a tight yet firm voice. The three present marauders and Lily was infinitely grateful for her and everyone nodded at her resolution.

"I also suggest that we inform Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger of Harry's situation. They need to know what they are agreeing to," Dumbledore spoke up. His reasoning was incontrovertible and everyone agreed.

* * *

Harry's eyes snapped open and his hand immediately reached for his wand on his bedside table where he knew he always kept it. His hand banged into glass instead of finding the familiar wood of his wand, and Harry realized he wasn't at home anymore, if the Dursley's house can actually be called his home. Harry jack-knifed into a sitting position. His head spun violently in retaliation to his action, and the glass he hit crashed to the floor, spilling green potion all over the tiles.

Frantic footsteps thundered down the hall, and the door was slid open almost violently. Harry took a brief moment to note that he was in a different room from the one he first woke up in. It was single person suit with a smaller window that was higher up against the wall. Probably to keep him from escaping he thought bitterly, before jumping behind the bed for defense, prepared to fight. The visiting faces shocked him so much that he nearly tripped over the bed.

"We heard a crash-" the male voice started.

"Is everything okay, Harry?" the female one asked.

Harry let out his breath in a low whoosh, practically dizzy with relief. In his haste to reach the two he nearly tripped and half stumbled to them. In a few quick steps he fell into their arms and hung onto them like his life depended on it.

"Ron. Hermione." He mumbled, relief and joy bubbling in his stomach. His budding headache was completely insignificant in comparison to his friends' safety.

"Harry? What's wrong?" Hermione tried to get a look at Harry's face; she was shocked to find tears streaming down his cheeks.

"What happened Harry, did someone hurt you?" Ron's tone held a tint of aggression at the thought.

Harry could only shake his head in response, his throat too clogged to respond.

"You're alive," Harry managed in a choke.

"Of course we are, why wouldn't we be, mate?" Ron asked quizzically. Lightening seemed to strike Hermione as she recalled the briefing they were put through in order to see Harry. She kicked Ron in the shin.

"Yeow," Ron whipped his head to stare at her like she sprouted an extra eye. "Wha-"

"I thought- I thought Voldemort got to you," Harry said in a strangled sob. Neither one flinched at the name, but it took a few seconds for the words to sink in. The two were confused for only a slight second, for neither one of them have come into contact with Voldemort recently, especially not since Harry pulled his disappearing act on them. Suddenly what the medi-wizard, Vandom, told them floated to mind:

"_It is in my belief that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has tampered with Harry's mind. He may say things that have never happened, because these are the memories that You-Know-Who instilled in him to make him believed he lived a wretched live caused by either the Order or Dumbledore. This is so that Harry will feel like the only way to redeem his life is by killing Dumbledore, and, or betraying the Order."_

_Ron voiced his disgust._

"_I have not had time to assess his mentally further, and after the incident last night I do not believe he will bode well with someone he does not remember or know. Therefore I must warn you again, that by accepting this responsibility should not only be for a reason to see him, but you may be putting your lives in danger as well."_

_The two didn't take more than two seconds to answer, and they never looked at each other for reassurance._

"_I understand the risks involved, Mr. Vandom, and I accept this duty," Hermione spoke with determination shining in her eyes._

"_I have absolute faith in Harry," was Ron's adamant response._

Now they both came to the same conclusion. Harry hallucinated the whole ordeal due to Voldemort's doing, and they have to correct it or he may never get better. For Harry to recover fully would be naïve and wishful thinking, but both hope to do the best that they can in aiding his recovery.

"We haven't been in contact with Voldemort since our fourth year, Harry," Ron informed him.

"Voldemort got to _you_," Hermione cut in bluntly. Ron's head snapped to ogle at Hermione like she grew tentacles out of her head instead of hair. This time it was Ron's turn to aim a kick at Hermione. Hermione chose that moment to move and guide Harry back to the bed. Ron's toes connected with the metal doorframe. His mouth opened in a silent scream. The look on his face did not deny his pain.

"Voldemort did horrible things to you," Hermione began, she decided to be direct in this predicament, she never did like beating around the bushes when trying to solve a problem. "He tried to mess with your memories." Harry stared at her, bewilderment evident on his face. Hermione took a deep breath. Harry had not tried to attack them, he sounded more worried than hostile when he saw them, and right now he looks like an utterly lost puppy. Hermione decided to take the plunge. "And we are going to help you remember, Harry." She decided to leave the part about him being used as a weapon out of the equation, it wasn't something she felt that Harry should be concerned about for now, he might take the news violently, and it would only complicate matters.

Behind Hermione, Ron mouthed to himself that the girl was crazy, and that he didn't have anything to do with her hair brain schemes, and also if what she said triggered Harry's 'condition,' then Merlin help him, he took no part in it. He'll be the first one out the door. And all the while, nursing his stubbed toes while hopping on the other foot.

Harry blinked. His mind was running slower than snail mail as he tried to make head or tail of what Hermione said. From _his_ perspective, and what _he_ went through, Harry came up with the conclusion that after Voldemort knocked him out, he tried to muddle with his memories. Harry wouldn't put it pass that psycho to mess with other people's mind. But there were some things amiss about what Hermione said. For instance, what had Voldemort hoped to gain by altering his memories, wouldn't it be more effective to simply finished Harry off when he had the chance? And also, Ron mentioned that he and Hermione hadn't had contact with Voldemort since fourth year. What about two years ago, in the Department of Mysteries? And in the fourth year, Hermione and Ron never had direct contact with Voldemort. Wrinkles formed between Harry's brows. Something wasn't adding up.

"Ron, you said you hadn't had contact with Voldemort since fourth year. But what about fifth year?"

"Huh?" Ron stopped in the middle of his one-legged dance, "Oh, he's still all over the newspapers if that's what you mean."

"Huh?" Harry blinked again.

"It's okay, Harry." Hermione said soothingly. "Don't think too much about it, we came to visit you today because we missed you, let's not think too hard about anything else."

"_Not think too hard?_" Ron repeated. "Uh-oh, Harry, better take cover, Hermione's finally gone bonkers from all that cramping," he joked.

Hermione's face flushed through three interesting shades of red, she looked ready to castigate Ron, but then thought better about it, and grabbed a pillow off of Harry's temporary bed to hurl at Ron's face.

"Hey, what was that f-," another pillow found its mark. Harry vaguely marveled at Hermione's good aim.

Ron shifted his body to the left to dodge the third one, only to get socked in the ear by a fourth one. Just where did she get all these pillows? Getting quite fed up with Hermione's mood swings, Ron gathered the pillows and began throwing them back. He misjudged his aim on two of them, or rather his aim was _that _good, for both of them scored on Harry's nose consecutively. The third one hit Hermione but she dodged the fourth one that sailed in an arc and plopped on Harry's head.

Harry's eyebrow twitched.

"Whoops."

Thus began an all out pillow fight between the trio.

The fight came to an end when the seams on one of the pillows popped, and feathers burst all over the room. Harry collapsed back onto the bed, his face red from laughing. Hermione slumped to the floor in giggles by Harry's feet. And Ron fell into a chair heaving for air, a big grin on his face. The feathers swayed slowly to the floor despite gravity, and blanketed the room in a gentle atmosphere.

"So what was that fit for?" Ron asked leaning forward with his chin in his hands, and his elbows on his knees.

"_Fit_?" Hermione hissed the word like a wet cat.

And you wondered why she was McGonagall's favorite student, he thought with mirth.

"_Cramping_? Honestly Ron, I got you a dictionary for Christmas, use it."

"Wha- what?" Ron sputtered. "That was from first year," he cried indignant. "What's wrong with the word 'cramping?' You- Oh."

Hermione crossed her arms in a superior form as Ron realized his grammar error.

"I meant _cramming_," he huffed dramatically in defeat, cradling his head in one hand, like having a mini war over grammar was a daily occurrence.

Harry couldn't help it; he collapsed into peals of laughter again. It was nice to know that Ron and Hermione's squabbles hadn't changed one bit. And because it felt good to laugh, Harry laughed some more. His laughter was contagious; grins broke out across Hermione and Ron's faces, as they joined in, too. It made Harry feel young and lighthearted again to laugh without a care. Not that Harry wasn't young, he was still considered a youth at seventeen years of age, but being engaged as the leader to an opposition against Voldemort in war, didn't give him much chances to feel lively like he use to in school, surrounded by his friends.

As their laughter died down, other thoughts surfaced in Harry's mind. In their last fight against Voldemort, nearly all of his friends took part in the battling. If Hermione and Ron were all right, then Harry extrapolated that the rest of his friends must be, too, but he had to ascertain that they were _indeed_ fine.

"So how are the others?" Harry inquired casually.

What might've been a normal question, was like treading on thin ice for Ron and Hermione as they tried to think of how best to respond to such a question that would not affect Harry's 'condition,' yet at the same time expand their knowledge on how much of his real memories had Harry been able to retain.

"Do you have anyone particular in mind?" Ron tried tentatively.

Harry's brows furrowed, "everyone else that was in the last battle," his two best friends waited with bated breath, "you know, Neville, Seamus, Katie, Luna, Ginny…" after that Harry listed a bunch of names including all the Weasley brothers.

Ron and Hermione mentally grinned at how much Harry _does_ remember, and they slowly let out the breath they held in anticipation before.

"Everyone is doing fine. They're all healthy," Hermione beamed, then her look darkened, "and they've all been worried sick about you, Mister Potter," she chastised, "running off in the middle of the night and then disappearing for an entire month."

Hermione looked visibility hurt that Harry couldn't help but apologize, "I'm sorry Hermione, I didn't mean to-" Wait, _run off? A month? But everyone agreed on that last battle as his or her final gamble, everyone went together…_

Suddenly a knock interrupted them. A medi-witch stood at the doorway carrying a silver tray with food, water, and even more potions. Harry cringed; he knew whom those were for.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, but the young Potter needs to rest soon," the witch spoke carefully.

Hermione and Ron looked remorsefully at one another before turning to Harry to bid good-bye, only to see Harry clinging to himself with white knuckles and his body shivering violently.

"Harry, what's wrong?" His two friends immediately fell to their knees by his side.

"_Are you ready to talk yet, young Potter?"_

Flashes of the nightmare burned through Harry's mind,

"He- he was whipping me," Harry said in a low mumble, and shuddered involuntarily.

"What?" Ron asked for clarification.

"Whipping," repeated Hermione, who miraculously caught the low murmur of Harry's voice, "It can be considered a form of muggle torture, but is mostly used by animal tamers and ring masters to train animals for performance," she muttered the last part for Ron's benefit. Somehow, her detached definition made the situation a little less emotional.

The medi-witch couldn't tell what was happening from her angle so she spoke up hesitantly,

"Um, to ensure proper recovery, the patient must take his potions on schedule, and I'm sure he must be hungry by now."

Harry hadn't realized it before due to all the action since he woke up, but there was an unmistakable empty gnawing in his stomach that can only associate with hunger.

"I- I'm okay," Harry tried to reassure Hermione and Ron, "besides, I could use some food in my system," he managed a pale smile.

His two friends nodded uncertainly and got up to leave.

"It's December, but vacation isn't until two days later," Hermione started off.

"By then, you'll have the whole school storming this place to see you," Ron added enthusiastically to lighten the atmosphere.

"We'll bring…" Hermione listed a couple of names including some of Ron's brothers, "next time, okay?"

Harry nodded.

"Okay, take care, Harry."

The three grasp hands lingeringly and then separated.

It wasn't until after Harry finished his meal and potions, and was slowly drifting off to sleep did he realized that Hermione said it was December. It would explain the cold outside, but the last fight happened at the start of spring, even one month and three weeks later would not bring him into December, so what exactly is going on… by the time his thoughts reach there, he was too tired to ponder much longer, and Harry's mind faded into sleep.

**

* * *

**

**Author's Note:**

The whole section about torturing your enemies to alter their memories, I'm not sure how much of that is true or false. My cousin once told me it was real, and that's just plain sick and strengthens my view on how cruel some humans can be. I mean you have Holocausts and Genocides going on around the world... But then again we were pretty young when my cousin told me such a thing happened in this world before. My cousin could've been just messing around with me, I mean; my cousin was pretty wild back then. What I have just typed it not meant to offend anyone in anyway whatsoever, I just don't want any readers to falsely believe what I have written as the truth because after all this is only fan _fiction_. I apologize if you were offended by anything I mentioned in this chapter, or in future chapters for that matter. Thank you for reading.**

* * *

**___Attention:_

I plan to change the working title of this fan fiction to "Je T'Aidera" by the next chapter, so please keep that in mind and I hope no one will get confuse.


	3. Chapter 3

****

Chapter Three

Harry had to pee. It hadn't occurred to him why he didn't need the loo before, but Harry chalked it up to dehydration. Either way, he had to pee. Now. Being more aware of his injuries and his head this time, Harry slowly got out of bed, but his head was already feeling much better than before. Harry felt around in the darkness, if only he had his wand, then a simple _lumos_ would've been a great help. He located a door with a handle on it, but it was locked. Grumbling about how inconvenient the situation was, Harry slid the main door of the room open, and wandered into the endless hallway. At least that is how it seemed like to Harry, in the dark. The moon probably hasn't or already passed this side of the building, so despite the windows lining one side of the wall, Harry was hopelessly blind.

Feeling along the walls, Harry turned right at the end of the hall. Harry's keen hearing could pick up slight noises further away. Following the sounds he reached the end of hall, ignoring all the doors that he felt along the way. Unlike the previous hall, this one branched off into two directions. At the end of the hallway on the left, Harry could see a faint glow of light in the distance. Harry followed it and took another left turn. The beam of light came from a slightly ajar door. There were murmurs of voices coming from behind the door, occasionally the voices rose and then fell.

Curiosity sparked, Harry crept silently towards the door on bare feet. Cautiously angling himself at the door, he peaked inside the room with one eye. The room looked like a den of sorts. A roaring fire cast the room in an orange and yellow glow from the fireplace against the back wall. Sofas and chairs were arranged in a natural and comfortable pattern. Colorful rugs decorated the floor in front of the door, fireplace and several chairs. Harry's eye roamed to the voices of two people arguing in hushed whispers.

There was a man and a woman, the man's back was to Harry but he had unruly black hair, and his board shoulders blocked the woman's face from view, although flowing red hair cascaded down her shoulders. The man turned away slightly at something the woman said, Harry briefly glimpsed the woman, and she looked familiar but Harry couldn't be sure, for the man was already blocking her from view again. He whispered something and they became silent, and then the woman collapsed onto a nearby couch. The man followed her, and placed an arm around her shoulder.

Harry gasped and he couldn't reel back fast enough. He crashed to the floor making an audible thump. There was a millisecond of pregnant silence, and then hurried footsteps sounded from inside the room. Harry thought about running before they got to the door, he really did, he just couldn't make his legs move in the way he'd want them to. The door was thrown open, a shield charm already up for any surprised attacks, and the two people came out holding wands. They spotted him, and their defenses drop, looks of worry and concern taking over.

"Harry," the man breathed, like he didn't believe the sight in front of him was real.

Harry's breath hitched in his throat. The woman took a tentative step forward, and Harry's eyes widen briefly in fear or disbelief, not even he could tell, all he knew was that he suddenly couldn't breathe right, and he needed to get away.

"H-," the woman started, Harry bolted from the place, he couldn't scramble to his feet fast enough, but he didn't have to, the two people he ran away from were too shell-shocked and hurt to follow. As they watched Harry turned sharply into the darkness they held onto each other for support.

Harry stumbled blindly and ran into the walls several times, he didn't know how, but somehow Harry managed to find the room he talked to Ron and Hermione in, before. Once there, he collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to shut the door. He must be really distraught to forget such a precaution, but then again who wouldn't be after seeing their supposedly dead parents alive again. But then again, it was pretty useless to shut the door, since he didn't have enough magic to spell it shut, and anyone could break it. Oh wells, all the better for him. If a thief thought he was worth the ransom and decided to kidnap him, then they'll be taking him away from this horrible place that taunted him with living models of his loved ones. Worn out, Harry fell into a fitful sleep full of nightmares of his parents' and Sirius's death, his bladder long forgotten.

* * *

Harry blearily opened his eyes. The sunlight was blindingly bright. His senses weren't as alert as he'd liked them, but he was aware of another presence in the room. Instinctively Harry reached for his wand only to find it missing. Harry cursed silently; he forgot that he was in unfamiliar territory. Despite the reassuring presence of his friends before, Harry realized that he still did not know _where_ exactly he was. There was a small clinking sound. Metal! Harry thought in alarm, instinctively associating it with weapons. Practically moving on autopilot, Harry threw the blankets off of him, keeping a firm grip on one corner of the white sheet. He jackknifed out of the bed. Locating a moving black thing out of his peripheral view, he promptly tossed the sheet over the intruder.

The person made an undignified, alarmed noise that was muffled slightly by the blanket. While the person was distracted, Harry grabbed a random glass bottle off a side table and smashed it against the wall. The glass broke into jagged pieces. Orange potion stained the wall, and dripped in thin lines to the floor. By the time the person unraveled himself from the blanket, he found sharp glass bearing down his throat, hardly two centimeters away.

Harry's eyes widened at the person he is threatening. He recognized the person as the male medi-wizard who treated him the first time he woke up. With a rattling breath, he removed the makeshift weapon from the man's throat.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, eyes still wide and unblinking as he looked away, feeling awkward.

The medi-wizard, Jordan Vandom, stared with wide eyes at his injured patient, a young boy hardly on the edge of adulthood. Yet, in the forty-six seconds since Jordan entered the room, that same boy held Jordan's life in his hands. Truly remarkable instincts, Jordan thought with shocked awe. Then Harry stumbled back two steps and collapsed back onto the bed. Or perhaps it was just paranoia, Jordan amended.

"Are you feeling- sick?" Jordan chanced.

Harry turned glazed eyes to him, he blinked and the look was gone, "Urm, actually, I need to pee." Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice chided him for his eloquence.

This time, it was the medi-wizard who blinked. Twice.

"Oh, it's right here," Jordan gestured vaguely, then he pulled out his wand and magically unlocked the door. Harry noticed it was the door that refused to budge for him last night.

He wanted to grumble and roll his eyes. If only he had his wand, he wouldn't have to hunt for that elusive lavatory. Then again, if only they didn't have to magically lock the door in the first place… Harry opted to just nod and get his business over with.

"You can also brush your teeth and take a shower in there," Jordan offered.

Harry locked the door manually, still complaining about the policy of the place. Why had they bothered to lock the door in the first place if it only led to the loo? Hadn't these people thought about his bodily needs? After Harry took a piss, washed his face and brushed his teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste he found, Harry contemplated that shower. The war had him constantly on his feet; even a quick dip in a river was a luxury. Despite him being used to skipping showers, the hot water was always a tempting thought.

His eyes scanned the room for the shower stall, towels and possibly a change of clothes. That was when he spotted the window: a moderately sized window that he could fit through and reach with a little leverage. So that's why they locked the door when no one was there to supervise him at night. They were afraid he'd run away, Harry realized sourly. Oh yea? Guess I'll just have to give them a reason to put me through that bladder torture.

XxXxX

Figuring that Harry might want some time and privacy to clean up, Jordan scribbled a note next to the tray of fresh potions and broth that he brought in, instructing Harry on which was which, and the order of the four potions that he has to take. There was also a numbing potion just in case, and a dreamless sleep potion if Harry wanted more sleep. Next he muttered a spell to clean the mess off the floor and the wall, and then he set a change of the standard hospital robes on the bed and left the room.

XxXxX

In conference room number three, the attendants from yesterday's Harry's-Health-Evaluation-Meeting gathered once again.

"Is there any change in the status of Harry's recovery?" Dumbledore started off the meeting.

"According to Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger's report, Harry did not appear traumatized at first. He carried on a normal conversation and even expressed concern for his friends. Some of the people that he brought up are," the medi-wizard recited the names that Hermione gave him.

"However, as Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley were about to leave, Harry revealed that he was whipped. There is no farther knowledge on this topic," here, Jordan took a deep breath as if he didn't want to confirm the next part, "but it has strengthened my belief that Harry was tortured by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Several fists clenched at this statement, noticeably are James, Lily, and Sirius.

"This morning, Harry showed signs of paranoia to my presence. Had he held a wand, I surely would not be here right now. I do not think Harry's condition is completely stable, but he was able to hold himself back, and I think continue exposure to his friends would do him good. But this is situation is still at a delicate stage, so each and every one of his friends who visit him are risking their safety on the line."

XxXxX

After the meeting, Lily and James pulled Sirius aside to the next hallway and into a room. They took the same precautions as with the meeting room.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked, surprised at the couple's rough treatment. Lily bit her bottom lip, clearly upset. James took the reins and told Sirius their encounter with Harry the pervious night. Sirius listened attentively and grunted or nodded to show that was following. By the time James was done with his narrative, Sirius will worry about gaining permanent frown lines between his brows. That's later on in the afternoon, when he will kiss his imagine in his bathroom mirror. It's practically a ritual, once daily, not counting the times he's away on missions.

"He reacted very negatively," Sirius deducted. Silence. "Why didn't you bring it up during the meeting?"

"I don't want our meeting with Harry to be delay by this," Lily finally spoke up.

Sirius nodded in understanding. He thought at least Jordan should know since that might help in aiding Harry's recovery, but he respected James and Lily's decision. After all, the fact that Harry thought him dead, no, murdered him, was not something that Sirius want rubbed in his face more than once.

"I understand, this conversation won't go beyond these walls," Sirius said solemnly. "I'm sure things will settle down soon," Sirius tried to smile, "Don't lose hope."

"Don't lose hope," Lily repeated softly, and then she gave the two males a watery smile. "Thank you guys, for always standing beside me."

"You're nearly my sister-in-law, don't mention it," Sirius laughed.

James shuddered at the memories that that line brought up. Sirius and Lily laughed at his reaction, also remembering the events of their fifth year in Hogwarts. James was slightly put out at first but followed shortly after. It was with a lighter heart that the three left the room.

"I'm free right now, do you want to go relax at a café somewhere?" James asked, with a lingering hand on Lily's waist.

"I have to finish the paperwork from the DE-4 incident," Lily murmured.

"Don't overtax yourself," James chided gently.

"I'll try not to. Why don't you go with Sirius to a pub and loosen up?" Lily suggested. Merlin knows they all need a break from all this bloodshed around them.

"Can't. My shift moved, I'm gonna scout out Diagon Ally with Frank." Sirius shrugged in apology.

Lily mimicked the gesture. "Guess it can't be helped," James voiced her thoughts. "I'll go fire call Bill and check up on the situation. He should be done visiting Charlie and be in the Americas by now."

"Okay, we'll regroup later."

James planted a kiss on Lily's forehead. Sirius made a gagging noise at their antics, which Lily smacked him playfully for, then the three parted to attend to their responsibilities.

* * *

After the Order meeting, Jordan filed away his notes, and went to check up on Harry. By now, nearly an hour has gone by. Harry is probably done with his shower and potions by now. Hopefully Harry decided to rest some more, it would help immensely with his physical recovery, but then again there wasn't much to do if he _did_ stay awake. Jordan will soon find out how wrong he can be.

When he slid the door to the room open, he was greeted by the site of an empty bed, with the change of clothes still laid out neatly on top of the mattress. The medi-wizard began to panic, did Harry faint in the lavatory? He banged on the door and shouted for Harry. When there was no response, Jordan unlocked the door with a flick of his wand. He rushed to the shower, no one. A breeze drifted in from the window. The opened window. Panic shot straight down Jordan's spine. He bolted from the room, back to conference room number three, hoping that some people loitered around, but the chances of that were slim to none. Everyone was an efficient member of the Order, and unless complications occurred they would not readily abandon their job. True to his suspicions, the room was devoid of people. Jordan cursed and ran off, in search of whomever he could find.

* * *

Harry breathed in the fresh air deeply. The atmosphere felt great here. Harry had run away to a section of this huge place, in which he is confined in, that resembled a garden of sorts. It was filled with greenery, with trees, grass, flowers and plants covering the entire area. If Harry doesn't look up above the trees on the west side, then he won't see the building and could imagine himself back in the wild, surrounded by nature. Harry could even see distant snow-capped mountains to the north. As Harry wandered around he noticed stone structures that can be used as stools or tables, but it was arranged to blend in with nature as much as possible, and it gave Harry a comfortable feeling of freedom.

"Harry? Did you come to watch the sunrise, too?"

Harry was suitably startled but he did his best not to show it. The scenery was so relaxing and quiet, that it gave him the illusion of being alone. Apparently he wasn't quite as alone as he thought he was. Should he fight or flee? Harry decided to identify the speaker first, he or she didn't sound hostile… The words were spoken in such a low, calm and content voice that it was hard to identify the gender of the speaker. There, a light shade of brown that didn't match the tree trunk. Harry walked around the tree, keeping a wide radius as he came in front of the person. The individual appear to be sitting on the grass with one leg straight out, the other tucked in, and his or her back against the trunk. Finally Harry was at an angle to see the person's face.

There were differences from the person Harry once recognized to the person he see before him. This person seemed less haggard by war, yet still showed the pain he accumulated from fighting. His face was clean-shaven and smooth from age lines. His hair was cropped in an unruly fashion that just brushed his shoulders, and locks of shorter hair framed his face. It gave him a shag rock star look that made him appear considerably younger from the last time Harry saw him. But like before, Harry was able to match this face to the one he recognized before.

"Professor Lupin?"

* * *

"Mrs. Potter! Mrs. Potter! I'm so glad I found you," Vandom gasped.

"Mr. Vandom? What's the matter?" Lily looked up from the scroll that she was staring at. Not that it mattered, none of the words registered in her mind. Minerva and Peter were also in the room.

"It's Harry, he's missing."

"Missing?" McGonagall repeated with an arched eyebrow.

Jordan shook his head to amend himself, "Ran away, through the window." Everyone jumped up at his words.

"We have to find him," Lily said frantically. Jordan just nodded vigorously, too tired from sprinting all over the building.

"Lily," Minerva started to order, but the red head was already out the door and making a mental list of all the places that was within a two hundred meter radius of the room that Harry was in. The transfiguration professor shook her head and turned to the two men. "Go look for Harry, I will alert the others."

With a swish of her robes, Minerva went to the fireplace; Jordan and Peter nodded, quickly setting off to the task they were assigned.

"I pray that it is not Mr. Lupin who finds you, Harry," the medi-wizard thought worriedly as he bashed into James around the corner, in his frantic haste.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"You're a little late, Harry."

"Huh?"

"You're a little late for the sunrise, Harry," Remus elaborated with a serene smile.

The morning sun bathed his features in golden hues, making his tan skin look like bronze and his pale hair shine like gold. If it were any one else before him, they might've stopped breathing enough to leave them unconscious, for the sight that Remus made was ethereal. But since this was Harry, the boy who looked up to Remus as a professor and not a possible love interest, the picture before him didn't do more than ascertain his view that the werewolf was not someone who lusted after blood, as the media painted him to be.

"Professor," Harry started, and then feeling like this was going to be a long conversation, approached his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor from his third year, and plopped down barely a yard away. Was it just him, or did Remus looked a little surprised at Harry's initiation. Deciding that it was just a trick of the light, Harry mentally shrugged it off.

"What are you doing here, Professor?" Harry said bluntly and quizzically.

"Why wouldn't I be here?" Remus returned.

Harry looked decidedly uncomfortable, and for a second Remus felt remorse at asking. Perhaps his supposed nephew still wasn't comfortable with his werewolf presence, especially after Harry's forced stay with the notorious Dark Lord.

Now, Remus was a very mild man, never let it be said that he lost his temper often. In fact his manners were so exorbitant that it would even throw Lord Voldemort in for a loop. But there were times when Remus just has to agree with the wolf within him. Currently he was cursing Voldemort so violently in his head that the Dark Lord would trip over an expensive carpet -imported from all the way from Southeast Asia, that Senor Crabbe presented him in his obsequious attempts to suck up for favor- four times in a Death Eater meeting without the help of a tripping jinx. Needless to say, Voldemort would _incendio_ his entire throne room into cinders to voice his displeasure later on in the day, only to realize two days later that he burned his favorite chair and grandest assembly room.

Then again, it was the media's fault in the first place. After their wave of werewolf hysteria when his secret was found out, the news spread all sorts of crazy stories that disparaged the wolf in public. Somehow they snapped a picture of Remus and a spy in his full Death Eater attire, and then everything just snowballed downhill from there. Because of his lycanthrope and the picture fueled by fallacious stories, even people from the Order began to view him with suspicion, then Dumbledore placed him under 'surveillance,' so to speak, to quell the sparks of rebellion against Remus's deteriorating image. As for Harry's awkwardness around him, it probably started with Remus's renouncement of the DADA position, that was when Harry and his friends started treating him- _carefully_ when they chanced upon him, for the mass media was getting to them even. Remus started to curse the news media, too. Their coffee never did taste quite the same after that.

"I mean, where is _here_," Harry's voice cut through his thoughts.

Remus blinked. Had Harry forgotten? Was that why he was so uncomfortable, because he couldn't remember where _here_ was? Not because he was in the presence of a werewolf? Remus was partially relieved that Harry no longer seemed to fear him, but that would mean Harry really did forget. Did something so traumatizing happened to Harry that affected his memory? Perhaps Harry sub-consciously forced himself to extirpate all information he held about the Order when he was captured, to avoid betraying the Order. It was a possibility, and there have been records of loyal members erasing their own memories to protect the organization that they worked for. And now Harry's memories were likely buried so deep that unearthing them would require time- time that they did not have.

"This place is the Order of the Pheonix Headquarters, Harry," Remus replied. When Harry responded with a blank look, Remus decided to elaborate, "The Order is an-,"

"No, I know what the Order is, it's just… I had not expected something quite like this… This whole place is under the Fedilius Charm?"

Remus gave an affirmative nod. Harry let out an impressed whistle. In his little journey to this patch of nature, Harry found out first hand how big this Headquarter really was.

"Each section of this building is also under different charms and protection layers. Some places require access codes, naturally, the main entrance is no exception."

"Makes sense, I guess. Professor, do you know how I ended up here?"

"I don't know the full details, Harry, but I am under the impression that you were found injured and sent here for treatment."

"Why not St. Mungos or Hogwarts' infirmary?"

"Your injuries to my knowledge were far from light, Madame Promfrey could not have given you the exclusive care you required, and for your safety, St. Muggles was put of the option."

"Why was I injured in the first place?" This was Harry's prominent question and will prove to him which set of events was the hallucination.

Remus looked away, slightly ashamed, "I, was not told. All I know is that you ran off more than a month ago from Hogwarts, to pursue something that Voldemort holds captive. After that, your capture was gloated by Death Eaters all over the news for nearly a month. Rescue squads weren't dispatched until two weeks after your disappearance, because Professor Dumbledore had to find out how much of the rumors floating around were true." Then Remus gave a brilliant smile, "Of course, your parents went after you the morning Professor McGonagall informed them of your absence." Then his disposition darkened almost immediately, the next part was murmured bitterly. "I went too, but when they caught me, I was restrained and they've put me under house arrest since then."

The significance of Remus's words finally sunk in. His parents. Remus had said _his parents_.

"My- my parents, as in James Potter and Lily Evans?" Harry's throat felt dry.

This time, Remus was truly alarmed since the start of their conversation, "Yes Harry, who else?" Remus asked carefully, almost afraid of Harry saying that he didn't remember his own birth parents!

"But- but. But that's not right!" Harry protested. "_This_ isn't right. _This_ isn't what I remembered!"

Harry was starting to panic; he'll go hysterical and initiated the flight response soon. Remus had to calm him down. Fast.

"Harry," he grabbed Harry's shoulders to still the shaking boy, what followed came in a rush, because he needed Harry to listen to everything before he run, "sometimes life isn't the way that we remember. What we remembered, what we believed in, in the past, may feel like a dream, a lie. But I can tell you this: I'm real. _Everything_ right now is real. You're not delusional."

Harry seemed to have stilled at this. Seeing that whatever he was saying was working, Remus plowed right on, "If the reality before you is worst than what you remember then it is a new starting point, a place where you can pick yourself up and become even stronger. If the reality before you feels like an unattainable dream from your past, then it is a second chance. New beginnings aren't gifts, you don't always find them, but when you do, grab onto it, don't let go, and make the most of it. Because what you are living in right now is the present, it is reality, and only you can control the immediate future that follows. So don't give it up, take control of your life."

Harry didn't attempt to run away when Remus withdrew his hands.

"You don't understand Professor. This isn't a matter of second chances, everything I remember is different from what everyone is telling me. I didn't run away to stake out Voldemort's lair, I went with my friends to battle him. Sirius shouldn't be alive; he died in my fifth year because I was being a Gryffindor. Voldemort murdered my parents when I was fifteen bloody months old, and I've been living with the Dursleys all my life. I don't get it any more! Have my entire life been one big lie till now? I'm so lost Professor. What should I _do_?" There were tears swimming in Harry's eyes.

Remus bit his lower lip in contemplation.

"I don't know what to tell you to comfort you, Harry," he decided to go with blunt honesty. "But what is real in life is for the individual to decide. What might be reality to one may be ridicule to another. Nothing is for certain in this world. As an individual, as a person, I take what life throws at me and work with it as it comes along, because if I wallow in the past, I know I will become entangle in memories and get lost. Sometimes I find myself forgetting my youth, and I wonder if it's for the best that I can't recall."

"Professor?" Harry touched his Professor tentatively on the arm, afraid that he has carved up old wounds. Harry's tears were dry rivers on his cheeks. "I- I think I know what you are trying to say, but I'll need some time to sort out my thoughts."

Remus gave Harry a weary smile, "Just don't lose yourself." Harry returned the gesture. After a moment of silence, Harry spoke up again.

"So you said my- my parents went after me when I 'disappeared,' who else was there?" Harry needed to know whom he could trust in this new, and warped reality.

"Sirius, of course, and Peter, too-"

"Wormtail?" Harry bristled, "That little traitor won't go after me, he sold my parents, as the keeper, to Voldemort when I was a baby!"

"Harry," Remus began patiently, "Peter has only been a keeper once, for Rosalyn Donohue."

"Oh yea? What happened to her?" Harry spat skeptically.

"She is now happily engaged to Peter."

Harry sputtered and nearly choked.

"Oh. Ah. Uh- well," Harry blushed, "What about you, why were you put under house arrest?"

"Subtle Harry," Remus chuckled at Harry attempt to change the topic. But deciding that Harry was babbling under the influence of his injuries, Remus did not push the subject. "I was charged for plotting the murder of a town full of people."

This time Harry did choke.

"That's preposterous," Harry declared, outraged. Remus smiled softly at this.

"I appreciate your support Harry, but I could have easily killed a village full of people. That day- was the night of the full moon."

"Oh." Harry breathed softly, "I see."

_And I also see that you remember my condition, yet failed to avoid me_, Remus thought contently.

From the distance, someone called Harry's name.

"Bloody Merlin," Harry swore softly. Remus smiled in amusement.

"I think you should go before they miss you too much. I am also under the impression that you need at least a week more of bed rest?"

"Five days," Harry corrected getting up and brushing the seat of his pants.

"Close enough," Remus's lips curled into a fond smile.

"Thank you, Professor, for telling me all this."

"Find me whenever you need to talk."

"Thanks, I'll be going now." Harry turned to leave.

"Oh, Harry."

Harry stopped mid-step and turned back.

"I'm not your professor anymore, why do you insist on addressing me as such," There was the faintest tint of disappointment in the werewolf's voice. Their conversation just now, seemed to be such a heart bearing one that the formalities hurt.

"Oh, force of habit."

"Will you- will you call me Remus instead?"

"I'll try, that is, if you don't mind."

"Not at all."

"Alright, I'll see you later, Remus."

With that Harry jogged off in search of the distant voice calling his name.

* * *

That night, the medi-wizard brought Harry his dinner and his whole line-up of potions again. Jordan waited by the restroom door, listening to the sound of running water while Harry took a shower, to make sure he wouldn't run away again. After that he sat next to Harry through dinner, fully expecting to stand watch over Harry until the boy fell asleep. Paranoid much? Harry thought with mirth. He didn't understand much before, but the talk with Remus really helped to lighten some things up. Base on what Remus said, Harry extrapolated that these people probably thought he was traumatized from his encounter with Voldemort. Harry snorted in his food when his thoughts reached there. Jordan gave him a weird look.

Honestly after all those times he faced off against Voldemort, and they still pushed him forward, they actually stopped to think he was a normal boy that can be traumatized. Whatever rules they were playing by, weren't the ones he were used to. So Harry decided to put up with this place until he can sort things out more.

It was a peculiar thing, really. Harry knew those wretched fifteen years and some months- not counting his fifteen months as a baby- he lived through were real. There could be no other explanation for it. Experiences couldn't be dreamed up. Yet, _here_, this place was also real. But, _here_, his parents were alive. _Here_, Sirius was alive. If neither his memories, nor this place was fake, then which one was _the_ real one? Hermione had also informed him that Voldemort had messed around with his memories. Just how much did that bastard mess up anyway?

Either way, during his shower, Harry had made up his mind to give this place a chance. Taking up Remus's advice, he'll deal with life as it comes and try not to get lost in reminiscing. He'll act 'normal,' not that he wasn't normal before, but 'normal' in the way that everyone expect him to be. Besides, it wouldn't do for people to constantly think he was ill, while he desperately tried to fit in like a normal person. When he has learned enough, then he'll draw his conclusions again. As an after thought, Harry reminded himself that he was not delusional, took a deep breath, and then asked,

"Mister…?"

"Vandom. Jordan Vandom," the medi-wizard supplied.

"Ah, right, Mr. Vandom, I, I want to see my parents."

…

The sound of breaking glass echoed from the room down the hallway.

_It seems, glass has been breaking all around me since I woke up_, Harry thought dryly, as he wandlessly cast a cleaning spell.

* * *

It was around nine thirty in the morning. Harry sat, curled up in a chair with _Identifying Ingredients for Potion Making _in his hand. It was lent to him by the medi-wizard, along with several other books on healing and ancient runes. Only half of the words were registering in his head. Despite his internal restlessness, his posture was placid. Outside a low wind was blowing, and the sky was white with rolling clouds.

The sound of the door sliding open had Harry tensing up. He didn't look up from his book for a good ten minutes or so. By then he wasn't reading the words anymore. A breeze rustled his unruly strands of ebony hair and flipped two of the pages. Deciding he couldn't put it off anymore, Harry looked up with bated breath. When his eyes fell upon the visage of his parents he effectively lost his ability to breathe. Time froze in the room. Not even the wind seemed to make it pass the window anymore.

Harry was the first one to break the spell. Setting the book aside without book marking the page, he got up and approached his parents. Hesitantly he reached forward. Lily and James met him halfway. For the longest while the three stood at the entrance of the room holding hands. Tentatively Harry spoke up,

"Mum? Dad?"

* * *

**A/N:** This chapter was bit tricky to write. I wanted Harry to come to an acceptance about this new reality without him fully grasping the concept that he isn't in his original world anymore. He knows that something if off, but I didn't think it'd be very realistic for him to automatically figure out that he is in an alternative universe.

Not to mention I like the clash between Harry's thought pattern and everyone else's thought pattern. As Chios puts it, the disconnection between their wavelengths. It's fun for me to write, and it's basically what I planned this fan fiction on when I started writing.

Remus gave a very cheesy speech in this chapter, at least in my opinion he did. I cut down on it a lot during my revision, but this is the best I can do. I hope it still sounds like Remus.

Also, I'm planning on Draco's appearance next chapter. Oh, I can't wait! Hope you'll look forward to it too.

* * *

**Replies:** I have a habit of not checking my e-mail. I checked it yesterday and found a list of replies from authors for my reviews to their stories… so if you're like me; I thought I should make it easier and just type out all my replies here.

Thank you for your lovely reviews: **disgruntledfairy,**

**Hitome-Chan:** I'm really glad you like my story. But this one will have a pairing, and it's HarryxDraco. It's been set since the beginning, so I hope you won't mind. If you do mind this kind of homosexual pairing, please stop reading after this chapter because I plan on delving into the pairing by next chapter. But thanks for your support so far.

**Cherry-Starburst, heelyaz, jc, Sandra, Retse, Chios, Liz Wolf,**

**skyinthenightslove:** I love your review, all your questions make me feel like you really care about this fan fiction and the characters, but I can't reveal anything yet, because you'll find out in the story. Please be patient for your answers. And thanks again.

and **Kai Minomono**.

To everybody who cared and asked: Nope, Remus is not evil as you can see in this chapter. After reading a horde of fan fiction on RemusxSirius I really can't dislike him, not to mention I never disliked him in the first place. But because he is a werewolf, there is inevitably going to be conflict surrounding him. So that's my reasoning.


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